


Alternate POV: Archie makes a faily beast

by amfiguree



Series: beauty and the beast au [2]
Category: American Idol RPF, Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amfiguree/pseuds/amfiguree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie finds Cook collapsed in his garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternate POV: Archie makes a faily beast

most of the time, like when he's pruning the roses, or when he's exploring new hallways in the castle (which, oh my gosh, there are more rooms in the castle than probably the entire _world_ ), or when he sits in the gardens and listens to the birds chirping the latest top 40 hit, david's pretty happy.  
  
plus, the castle is totally awesome about stuff like bringing him his (favorite) meals on time, and lighting fires when it gets cold, and keeping everything clean, so it's not like david has anything to complain about.  
  
but also, most of the time, david doesn't find strangers, like, _collapsed_ inside the castle garden. especially not actual _people_. "oh my gosh!" david says, to the front gates, once he finds his voice. he tries to look stern, even though he's suddenly finding it hard to breathe. "you're totally not supposed to do that! he could've tried to pluck the roses--"  
  
a long tendril of grass snakes up to him and lifts the man's face for a second, then lets it drop limply back onto the ground, like it's saying, _yeeeeeeeah, him and whose army?_   
  
david flaps at it. "you are so not funny."  
  
across from him, a row of delilahs fold their petals inwards, huffily. david just sighs and goes back to eyeing the intruder. his clothes are all wet, limbs sprawled uncomfortably over the ground. his forehead is creased, too, skin already red from the cold. also, he's kind of, um, scruffy-looking, when david leans down to get a closer look, and there are flakes of snow still caught in his hair and his beard, and he's, um, he's--  
  
david flicks his ears, nervously, looking from the gates, to the castle, and back gain.  
  
there's a moan, then, low and pained, from the stranger at his feet, and david twitches. _dangit_.   
  
he feels a warm tug in his stomach as he scoops the man up, easily, and then another one when the man, um, sort of - sort of leans in and snuggles him.   
  
"this is such a bad idea," david mutters, to himself. he is _totally_ not blushing as he turns around and works his way back towards the castle.  
  
  
inside, david growls gently at the fireplace in his bedroom, and the wood starts to crackle, merrily. he puts the stranger down on his bed, carefully, trying to keep his claws sheathed, but the stranger makes this quiet whine in protest when david tries to pull away.   
  
"um," david says, in terror, because--oh my gosh, what if he wakes up? he's totally not going to believe him if david says, "please don't start yelling! i'm not going to eat you, i promise! i just - i have a lot of fur?" (he tried that years ago, this one time, and ended up with, like, two forks in his arm, _ow_ \--)  
  
the stranger makes that noise again, sounding kind of impatient, and david flails helplessly and starts humming the first thing that pops into his head (bach's _toccata in d minor_ ).   
  
it seems to work, and david breathes a sigh of relief. but then he realizes that the man is still drenched through in, like, whatever, _snow-water_ , and david's going to have to, um, to--  
  
he really _is_ blushing this time, paws clumsy on the stranger's shirt, and - and other clothing, and david keeps trying not to look, but it's really, really hard, because, um, _wow_ , okay, _skin_ \--  
  
but then he's pulling off the man's boots, and his toes are already blue, and david says, "oh my gosh!" too loudly, and growls for hot water so he can stop the stranger's feet from, like, _falling off_.  
  
it looks totally painful, oh my heck, and when the stranger kind of jerks at the hot towels, david winces and carefully, cautiously, begins stroking his forehead, hum-singing under his breath. he stays there the rest of the evening, and only stops once to change the towels and growl, "a little dimmer, please," at the hearth.  
  
there's a warmth in his chest the whole night, and it's awesome, even when it isn't, because he knows it's only for tonight, but--  
  
most of the time, david thinks he just forgets that being happy and being used to something -- they aren't the same thing.


End file.
